


Five Tracys In Watercolour

by Mars_McKie



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Brains x Brawn if you squint hard enough!, Life Class - Freeform, Nudity, Painting, Tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 16:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_McKie/pseuds/Mars_McKie
Summary: On a quiet day on Tracy Island, what started out as Virgil trying to paint muscle tone somehow turns into a life class





	Five Tracys In Watercolour

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be writing other stuff and instead I came out with this!  
> Oh well...  
> Happy Birthday Virgil!!!

All seemed quiet that morning as Virgil strolled around the villa, a breakfast bagel in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He overheard Scott speaking with John in the control room, reporting a quiet morning all over the world for International Rescue. Virgil smiled contently- he didn’t know when things might be this way again so he planned to make the most of it.

He often mourned how little time he got to spend in his studio, but that was the life that he and his brothers had chosen. Now though he hummed contently, selected some classical music to play out over the speakers and set to work getting his working space back into order. The floors were covered with dust sheets, as was the sofa (he’d rather be overly cautious than risk the wrath of Grandma Tracy on a cleaning spree) and one wall was floor to ceiling windows with a view out to the east of the island and bright sunlight pouring in. Paints and brushes littered the floors along with half-finished works of art he had begun then abandoned when the summons came for International Rescue. Rather than continuing one of these he decided to start something new.

Setting up an easel with a flipbook of artists’ paper, Virgil pulled a full-length mirror into position next to him and took off his lumberjack shirt and jeans. He cut an impressive figure- slightly stocky and round-shouldered, but also barrel-chested and buff with great definition. Truly the powerful rock of the family. He wasn’t without his marks though- a scar across his right shoulder and an indent in his left thigh showed where some calls had become too close.

Virgil considered his contours in the mirror for a moment longer before he took up his pencil and started making broad, light strokes across the paper. It wasn’t an ideal situation; though he stayed as still as he could while drawing himself he always itched as a model, not being as free as he would like with his mind and body, and while a wooden model was good for positioning the human body it sucked for realistic muscle definition and was always the same body type. Sometimes you couldn’t beat a good old fashioned human being.

His forehead creased in concentration and his body itched but he persisted. After half an hour he felt reasonably content with his progress, but always aware that it was a mirror image of what it should be. The door to the studio opened and Scott walked in.

“Hey Virge-” he started but stopped on seeing Virgil stood there in just his underwear. He smiled in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“It’s been a while since I tried drawing muscle tone, I thought I’d give it a go,” Virgil shrugged. Growing up with four brothers, they had long passed the point of embarrassment, along with dismissing the notion of personal space (John excluded, given how he spent the majority of his time in space).

Scott looked over at the drawing and nodded. “It’s good. Perhaps missing a certain something though.”

“It would be easier with a proper model rather than a mirror,” Virgil said, perhaps slightly pointedly.

“Could you not just pull a picture up from online, or a hologram?”

“It’s not the same,” said Virgil, setting down his pencil. “With a hologram the lighting will never be right, and it feels like if I get a picture online then the work isn’t really mine. I know that doesn’t really make sense-”

“No, no, I get it,” Scott said, probably not understanding at all but he could see where this had been going ever since he’d stepped into the room. “Do you want me to be your model then?”

Virgil quirked his eyebrows. “Would you?”

“Sure, it’ll be like you’re in high school all over again!” At some point during Virgil’s years at high school he’d had all of his brothers acting as models for him. The drawings of them as teens and children along with early sketches of dad and mum were still in his art books, too precious to throw away. Scott unbuttoned his shirt and took it off along with his trousers, shoes and socks. “You want muscles? I’ll give you muscles!”

Slim, pale rosy skin, broad shouldered and proud chested, Scott’s military training showed in his strong form, though perhaps some of his muscle density was lost in not having been to the gym on the island for a few weeks (Virgil was quick to point this out and Scott scowled). His bright blue eyes shone and he puffed his chest out like a peacock; their strong leader. Virgil repositioned his easel, flipped over to a new sheet of paper and set Scott side on to the window so that the natural light fell across him, with a few instructions on the positioning of his arms.

This was so much better- Virgil could relax into the work now, the strokes of his pencil capturing his brother’s form with perfect precision. Within ten minutes he’d got the line art done and began the work of shading, a rubber in his other hand bringing clean lines through the hard pencil tones. Due to breaking his right hand as a child, Virgil had learnt to write with his left hand and after the cast had came off he made a great show of being able to write and draw with both hands simultaneously. He was keen to hold on to this ambidexterity, favouring his right hand for the strong lines and his left hand for the shading.

The piece was nearing completion when the door burst open and Gordon and Alan came scurrying in, closing the door behind them. Turning into the room, they took one look at Scott and Virgil stood there in their underwear and burst out laughing.

“Um, have we interrupted something?” Gordon said, clutching his side.

“Shut up,” said Scott.

“What are you doing in here?” said Virgil, annoyed at the interruption.

“Grandma is baking in the kitchen, we need somewhere to hide!” Alan explained. “Please can we stay in here? We’ll be quiet.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Virgil said, but didn’t argue the point any further.

“I don’t know if we should stay in here, Alan,” Gordon grinned. “Not if there’s a dress code we have to adhere to.. or should that be an _undress code_?”

Alan snorted and Scott rolled his eyes. “If you prefer, you can leave and take your chances in the kitchen.”

“Oh no, I’m just fine here,” Gordon simpered, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and shorts.

“For goodness sake, Gordon, you don’t have to take your clothes off!” Virgil said. “It’s only because I’m drawing Scott.”

“Draw me too!” Alan cheered, pulling off his top as well. Gordon chucked his underwear at Scott’s head who turned around to see the swimmer lounged out behind him on the sofa, completely kit-less.

“Close your legs at least!” Scott groaned, turning back around. Gordon slipped up behind him and yanked Scott’s underpants down around his ankles. He quickly cupped himself out of modesty and bent down, trying to pull his pants back up.

“Gordon!” Virgil was getting really annoyed now but Gordon just spread out on the sofa again.

“Paint me like one of your French girls, Virgil!” Gordon declared grandly, quoting an old film from the past century. Now Alan was also naked and Scott was still struggling to pull his underwear up one handed.

Virgil huffed but then wondered- here he had three willing life models, why not make the most of it?

“Right,” Virgil took command of the situation and they all looked to him. “Gordon, sit up into the cushions, drape your shirt over one leg and hold on to this-” Virgil handed Gordon a mop from a corner. “Scott, lose the underwear, move in a bit, stand how you were before and hold this-” Virgil repositioned Scott who promptly took off his underwear again and took the small canvas in one arm, grinning despite himself. “And Alan, lean on the edge of the sofa here, drape your shirt across your shoulders and hold this-” Virgil handed Alan a vase from a still life display and positioned his arms in a tilt.

He stood back and admired the scene he had created, the new idea quickly coming together in his mind. Virgil took up a new canvas, set it on the easel and began quick work with pencil and hastily added watercolour paints on top.

At first glance, the two youngest blondes could have been identical but Virgil perceived the differences between them. Gordon mimicked Scott’s body in having broad shoulders and chest, though he had that brilliant bronze tan and hazel eyes, was shorter by a foot, leaner and had more definition in his muscles, the perfect build for someone who had trained as a professional swimmer for years.

Alan was paler, an inch shorter, shared Scott's blue eyes and was lean in a more spritely way, but where Gordon was defined, Alan had cute teenage puppy fat around his stomach and arms, not used to regularly working out. But they all had that definite Tracy jawline inherited from their father. The differences between them were just enough to make it interesting for Virgil in capturing their individual characters.

His subjects did well in staying still for a good while until they were disturbed again, by John of all people, sticking his head around the door.

“Hey, it’s quiet today, so I thought I’d join-” John’s jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of them, Virgil painting in his underwear and his other three brothers posing in their birthday suits.

“Just in time John!” Virgil called over to him, adding blue flecks to Scott’s eyes.

John tried to back out of the room but Gordon leapt up and shouted, “Family portrait!” The three disrobed brothers succeeded in pulling John back into the studio against his will and stripped him of his spacesuit (a difficult job as the rubber lining seemed to be suctioned to his skin).

“What the hell is going on in my life right now?” John moaned as Gordon pulled down his special astronaut underwear.

“It always cracks me up that you have to wear these, and you say space is better than water!” Gordon said, holding them aloft, but stopped when he got an eye full of John’s member. “Bloody hell-”

“Shut up, low blood pressure and a lack of gravity does things to the muscles in your body,” John retorted in an attempt to be dignified. “It... might make it look bigger, but it’s... how do I put this?”

“Boneless,” Scott finished for him with a smirk.

“Well now I feel completely inadequate!” Alan threw up his arms. “If you need me I’ll be in Thunderbird 3!”

“Yes, please excuse me, I need a moment to fluff,” Gordon pretended to turn his back on the others.

“Stop your moaning and get back in your positions!” Virgil said and he bustled over to position John with his props. They were in position again and Virgil got back to work, adding John onto the canvas next to his brothers.

John’s body was different again- he was an inch shorter than Scott and though he was well built and did his best to exercise on Thunderbird 5, being in orbit had given him an amount of space flab and made him ghostly pale, to the point that his veins stood out bright against his skin. Still, he was thin and lithe from a diet of dehydrated food and Virgil had little difficulty imagining him as the fleet character in his painting.

An hour later and his subjects were growing restless again, shifting where they stood or sat, getting bored. With a final delicate stroke he brought the painting to a stand still for the moment.

“OK, you can relax,” he ordered them. Scott and John sank heavily onto the sofa (John grumbling about how heavy gravity made him feel), and Gordon and Alan rushed around the canvas.

“Is it finished? Can we see it?” Alan asked, before- “Wow!”

“It’s not finished just yet...” Virgil said.

“Ah, is that where you’re gonna be?” Gordon asked, pointing to a blank space in the centre of the canvas between him and Alan on the recliner.

“Yeah, but um...” Virgil hesitated. “I need someone to take a picture of me so I can add myself in...”

“Get your pants off and join this party!” Scott beckoned him over and got up to grab his camera. Grinning nervously, Virgil took off his underpants, grabbed a wine glass from the still life, draped a dust sheet over his shoulders and reclined on the sofa.

“I think I can see where this is going,” John smiled as he looked at the canvas. Scott snapped a few shots and Virgil worked quickly to add himself to the painting. His brothers lazed around while he did this, chatting happily, none of them feeling particularly inclined to get dressed again.

Finally, Virgil stepped back. “Right, it’s done!” The other four ran over and gave appreciative laughs and cheers. He had painted them all into a scene of Greek Gods; Scott was Apollo, standing over them holding his lyre, Gordon was a young Poseidon with his trident, Virgil was in the centre as Dionysius, the goblet in his hand being filled by Alan as Ganymede, and John finished the group as Hermes, seemingly floating next to them. The likenesses were uncanny and he had really captured them all perfectly.

“Brilliant Virge!” Scott clapped him on the shoulder.

“You couldn’t have added on a few inches?” Alan joked. “Artistic license and all that!”

John massaged his forehead in mock suffering but he was beaming along with the rest of them.

“So where are we gonna put it?” Gordon asked.

“We are not putting this up in the house!” Scott exclaimed.

“Why not?”

“Please don’t make me answer that!”

“If you’re that embarrassed by it we can send it up to Thunderbird 5.”

John made to punch Gordon in the balls and he recoiled.

“What do we do with it then?” Virgil asked. He had a feeling his masterpiece was destined to go to waste. The word of the artist seemed to sober them.

“We could gift it to someone,” Alan suggested. “The quality is excellent so I’m sure it would fit right in on Lady Penelope’s wall!”

“We are not giving that to Lady Penelope!” Gordon cried. “I don’t need her seeing you guys looking like Greek Gods! I don’t need that kind of competition!”

“Needless to say, Kayo would kill us if we tried to palm it off to her,” John pointed out.

“No,” Scott murmured. “But there is someone whose birthday is coming up soon...”

“No!” Virgil protested, going beet red.

“Ah, come on Virge, just think of him seeing you like that,” John grinned wickedly. That was exactly what Virgil was thinking of; he quickly went to pull his pants back on to cover himself.

“It’s either that or we send it to The Hood to decorate the walls of his cell with!” Gordon told Virgil. They all burst out laughing at that.

*

A few weeks later, Brains was working with MAX on refuelling Thunderbird 3 after a rescue. The wall of the lab was plastered with a multitude of diagrams and blueprints, and in one corner a framed painting which had been presented to him on his birthday by the pilot of Thunderbird 2, his brothers giggling behind him at the time. Brains hadn’t known what to make of it but was too polite to turn it down. Plus, not that he really considered himself to have an artistic eye, it was rather good. He blushed as his eye was drawn to the Dionysian figure at the centre of the piece and quickly busied himself with something else, not that anyone else was there to see where his gaze landed.

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally got to watch the first season of TAG :3 I love all of the development that the brothers are given in this series, and poor Virgil not getting a proper birthday! So this is kinda a birthday present, I guess?


End file.
